


Unflappable

by MarianneGreenleaf



Series: The Future is Bright: Paris and Beyond [1]
Category: Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, At the freight depot, Boys band performance, Charming Victorian, Confessions, F/M, Harold and Marian have a fight, Intimacy, Love Confessions, Parenthood, Pillow Talk, Propaganda, Psychological Trauma, Spooning, World War I, smexytimes, wedding ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianneGreenleaf/pseuds/MarianneGreenleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one knew how much it cost Harold Hill to smile gaily and bolster River City's patriotic morale when Winthrop and the boys went off to war. And he would make sure no one ever found out - no matter how much it killed him to be unflappable...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unflappable

As the leader of the River City boys’ band, Professor Harold Hill considered it his responsibility to boost general morale, promote musical awareness and provide wholesome activities for youth. Never was this task more important than after April 6, 1917, when America officially joined the Allies in fighting the Great War against Germany’s Kaiser Wilhem II and the Central Powers. Although the River City-ziens were largely isolationist in temperament, the barrage of pro-war newsreels, photographs, posters, magazine and newspaper articles, and speeches from community leaders swayed the opinions of several townspeople, and when River City’s sons were called to the front during the summer of 1918, they were given a grand, heroic sendoff.

It had been Harold’s job to organize the festivities, and he did so with the same panache as he had ever put on a performance. But no one knew how much of a toll it took on his spirit to smile gaily and watch the boys – _his_ boys, as most of them had been members of his band at one point or another – board the train with excited expressions and glorious dreams of adventure. As Harold watched their bright-eyed countenances, he remembered how a few years ago, when _Peter and Wendy_ arrived at Madison Public Library and caused an instant sensation, his boys had wanted to see the ocean. At the time, he and Marian had shared a good laugh about that, but now it looked like the last laugh was on them.

Tommy Djilas had been among the first group to depart and, although he was more street-smart than the average River City lad and should have known better, even his eyes shone with anticipation. The other boys soon followed trustingly behind, as they always had when he led them in parade. And then, on one lazy August afternoon, sixteen-year-old Winthrop added a few years to his age and stole away on the train without fanfare or farewell. A week later, they received a letter with a postmark from a state too far away to fetch him back before his convoy went overseas. Although he apologized for making them all worry when he disappeared so suddenly, he did not seek forgiveness for leaving in the first place. Instead, he closed his missive with the words, “Be brave.”

Being a former conman, Harold knew there was a price for everything, even – and most especially – peace on earth. But he had not been prepared for Winthrop to pay it. What especially irked him was how, after their initial shock and dismay, Marian and Mrs. Paroo soon demonstrated stoic acceptance of the boy’s actions. Even Amaryllis seemed to take things in stride, despite the fact that his leaving had surprised her as much as it had anyone else – in fact, she was the most tolerant of them all.

So despite his lingering displeasure, Harold put on a brave face as well – who could have guessed he’d be taking lessons in dignity and composure from Amaryllis, the girl who could never hold her tongue? And the other young ladies were just as courageous in their steadfast endurance; Zaneeta, who’d married Tommy before he left, also displayed a surprisingly serene demeanor – even when her stomach took on the telltale curve of impending motherhood as autumn approached. Harold supposed such silent forbearance was the province of women, who were used to waiting patiently for men. After all, hadn’t Marian waited for him?

But Harold was not a waiter; he was a man who had to keep moving. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he had a wife and daughters to look after and that he was getting a bit long in the tooth, he might have been tempted to enlist, himself – if only for the opportunity to scour the trenches of Europe for Winthrop. Although Harold had never been a soldier or gone to war, he knew a thing or two about surviving life-or-death situations. When one was in the thick of chaos, one didn’t think too much about what one was doing to get by – one couldn’t think too much, as it was a liability. It was only when Harold had reached the haven of River City and Marian’s embrace that he was plagued by memory. And it was amazing he’d allowed himself to stop running, given that he’d seen firsthand what too much rumination could do to a man. When Harold was old enough to ask his mother why his father left home for such long stretches of time and why he often smelled of liquor when he returned, she told him he’d been refighting the Civil War. It wasn’t until many years later, when he was also wrestling with remorse long overdue, that Harold understood precisely what she meant.

It wasn’t the idea of Winthrop dying that frightened Harold – although such thoughts made his stomach tie itself into horrible knots. As the son of a Civil War veteran, he knew that sometimes, the dead got the better end of the deal. To think of Winthrop or any of his boys coming home shells of men was what really tore him up inside. Whenever the music professor heard the members of his band talk with boyish delight of being soldiers and bravely following their older brothers to the front when the time came, his knuckles whitened around his baton and his ever-present grin froze. But Harold never said anything to dampen their glee, even though he wondered if he should have. Instead, he simply encouraged his boys to channel all that patriotic energy into putting on a good show for the folks at home – all while praying to a God he wasn’t sure existed that the war would be over before they got their chance.

Although the news from the front was indeed promising throughout September, Harold couldn’t share in the River City-ziens’ joy and optimism that their boys would be home in time for Christmas. He couldn’t even thank his lucky stars that he didn’t have sons. Penny, his incorrigible tomboy, displayed a rough-and-tumble nature rivaling that of any boy her age – she was always getting into adventures that led to scraped knees, various bumps and bruises, and torn clothes. Elly was slightly more retiring and feminine in temperament, but she also required a fair amount of looking after. While Harold was proud of his precocious and high-spirited daughters, he knew they weren’t likely to grow up to be the kind of women who sought quiet, uneventful existences in the town of their birth. One or both of them might just end up departing River City on a train of their own, someday…

Whenever Harold caught himself thinking along these lines, he blinked and shook his head – it was much too early to be pondering things that may or may not happen in the distant future. But it was difficult not to get lost in such dismal ruminations; the charlatan turned music professor knew all too well that the past had an unpleasant way of accumulating rapidly, especially as one got older. After six years, Harold still felt like a newcomer to River City – but how things had changed in that short time! Winthrop, the bright-eyed boy, was now a principled and determined sixteen-year-old on the cusp of manhood. Tommy and Zaneeta, the mischievous but tender-hearted teenagers, were grown up, married and expecting their first child. And Penny and Elly – how quickly they had gone from burbling infants in their mother’s arms to articulate children who hatched schemes and dreamed glorious dreams about their own futures!

As if his daughters’ youthful capers and sometimes heart-stopping peccadilloes weren’t enough to contend with, a fearsome disease the newspapers and newsreels dubbed “the Spanish Flu” started to wreak havoc all over the world – yet another reminder that not only was Harold unable to stop the ones he loved from leaving, he also couldn’t prevent them from coming to any harm – even when they were still under his watchful care.

But he sure as hell was going to do what he could to protect his family.

XXX

When Marian looked up from her sewing and caught sight of her husband striding up their front walk, she sighed. It was a beautiful, sunny morning in late September, and the librarian had just bid Harold and their daughters farewell about twenty minutes ago – the girls were attending kindergarten this year, and he insisted on walking them to and from Mrs. Willson’s every day. Marian didn’t mind this precaution, as Penny and Elly were still a bit young to be roaming around town on their own, but it miffed her that he had also gotten into the habit of walking her to and from the library, as if she was also a child that needed looking after. Despite her appreciation for his concern, there were often times she had to stop herself from snapping at him in exasperation.

Marian couldn’t think why Harold’s apprehension about their daughters’ safety should extend to her as well, although she supposed it had something to do with that darn war, which had cast a pall over everything. It was quite something how small the world had become, if settling strife in distant countries required the services of River City’s sons! But even though the librarian detested the brutality of war, she believed it was wiser to stop the Kaiser now, lest the Allies fall and German U-boats set their sights on American shores. Ever mindful that it was a woman’s duty to keep the faith on the home front – and although it was selfish, she couldn’t help being grateful that her own husband wasn’t young enough to be conscripted – Marian bore her sense of pique with patience and understanding.

Still, despite the fearsome things she read in the newspapers these days, the librarian was not a fragile flower, and she was starting to resent Harold’s constant hovering over her. His coming home this morning was odd even for him; since Marian wasn’t scheduled to work today, there was no need for him to escort her anywhere – he should have been at the emporium.

Repressing a sigh, Marian stood up from the bay-window seat and greeted her husband with an arch smile when he walked through the door. “Did you forget something?” she teased.

Harold grinned and pulled her into a hug. “I missed you, darling,” he said simply. “I missed you so much that I thought I’d take the opportunity to spend a day alone with the woman I love.”

Although Marian knew the feelings underpinning this statement were genuine, there was a note of showy insincerity in his tone that gave her pause. Pulling away a little from their embrace, she raised an eyebrow at her silver-tongued music professor. “Doesn’t the band have rehearsal today?” she asked pointedly.

Although Harold gave a devil-may-care shrug, she saw the tension in his shoulders; the loquacious music professor was standing much more stiffly than was usual for him. “Oh, that? I’ve canceled it!” he declared with a grand, sweeping wave of his hand.

Marian clucked her tongue at him. “This is the third rehearsal you’ve canceled in the past two weeks – you can’t miss too many more, or the boys won’t be ready for their upcoming concert!”

Harold took her hands in his. “You’re much more important to me than any concert,” he said adamantly, with real emotion in his eyes.

The librarian couldn’t help smiling at the sentiment, even though she knew she shouldn’t be encouraging her husband to play hooky. “That’s awfully sweet of you, darling,” she said kindly, “but I’m afraid I can’t cancel _my_ obligations. I’ve got to do my part for the Events Committee’s upcoming war raffle – I promised Mrs. Shinn I’d get my quilt to her by the end of this week, and it’s already Thursday.”

Marian expected him to protest, but Harold simply gave her an understanding nod and a smile, departing the parlor with the words, “I’ll be in the music room, if you need me.”

Satisfied that she had at least attained a partial victory, the librarian went back to her project. But she couldn’t concentrate – her husband’s constant pacing back and forth, which she could hear even though he was in another room, grated too much on her nerves. Packing up her sewing, Marian steeled herself for a conversation that was long overdue, and went to find her husband. As the librarian approached – not even bothering to muffle her footfalls on the hall floor – Harold’s pacing came to a quick halt and there was a shuffle of paper. Indeed, when Marian entered the music room, she found her husband reclined in a chair and poring over the score for the overture of _Pirates of Penzance_. Even after she sternly cleared her throat, he looked up with a nonchalant smile.

“Yes, darling?”

“What on earth is going on?” she burst. “Why aren’t you at the emporium?”

Harold looked both hurt and ashamed. “I wanted to spend some quality time with my wife.”

Even though Marian’s heart couldn’t help melting a little at his words, she forced her expression to remain unmoved. “You need to spend some quality time with your students,” she said severely. “How are we supposed to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table if you shirk your duty to provide for your family?”

Harold stood up quickly, the score scattering to the ground. “Shirk my duty?” he exclaimed, looking positively livid. “I’ll have you know, Madam Librarian, that postponing a few rehearsals here and there isn’t going to put the emporium in any danger! Besides, the boys don’t need any of my assistance – they’re in such a patriotic fervor all they do is practice their music, with or without me. I can’t go anywhere in this damn town without hearing someone humming _Yankee Doodle_ or _Anchors Aweigh_ – if I have to spend another day cooped up in that blasted auditorium listening to it, I’ll go mad!”

Marian gaped at her husband in utter shock. She knew he wasn’t pleased about the war – it was the rare River City-zien who was – but she had never realized the true extent of his loathing for it. As she struggled to find something to say that would assuage his agitation, Harold started pacing again. “But I suppose it’s my _duty_ ,” he said in disgust. “It’s my duty to smile and play the piper who sends our boys on a one-way ticket to an unmarked grave in Europe.” He halted and whirled around to face her. “Well, my duty is also to you and the girls – to protect you as well as to provide for you. But a man can’t be everywhere at once – if you want me to devote more time to earning a living, you’re going to have to do a little more looking out for our daughters in my stead!”

Marian gasped, and her inclination to sympathize and soothe was drowned out by sheer hurt at this uncalled-for insult. “It’s not my fault the girls get into so many scrapes!” she acidly retorted. “Where do you suppose they get their sense of adventure and inclination to disregard the rules? Certainly not from me!”

Determined to emerge the victor in this altercation, the librarian glared at her husband with disdainful fury as he glowered back at her in stony silence. But his cruel remark had cut too deeply for her to maintain such charades, and it wasn’t long before Marian’s mask of composure cracked as her face began to crumple. Although her husband’s shoulders slumped and remorse entered his expression, she refused to show him such vulnerability, and turned away before he could see her tears. But it was too late – Harold was immediately at her side, trying to take her in his arms.

“Marian – forgive me – please forgive me – ”

Even in the midst of her weeping, she reached out and gave him a good, hard shove. “Leave me alone!”

When Harold reeled back and goggled at her, it was Marian’s turn to regret her actions. But before she could open her mouth to make amends – a difficult task, as she was still sobbing – her husband turned and exited the room.

The librarian finally recovered her powers of speech. “Harold!” she called out desperately as she heard his footsteps clattering rapidly down the hall.

But the front door slammed shut and Marian was alone, just as she had demanded.

XXX

When the angry fog clouding his senses finally receded, Harold found himself at the freight depot – which only compounded his sense of guilt. He couldn’t help remembering the rallies with the band while the boys boarded the train and the town bade their young men farewell. As Harold recalled how the boys whooped and hollered for their brothers to “give the Kaiser what-for!” and the girls gazed at the newly-minted soldiers with star-struck eyes, he felt sick inside. Although the smiles of the adults were shakier, they were heartened by Harold’s music; by the time the train pulled out of the station, he had them all cheering – which made him feel even sicker, even as he steadfastly strove to project an air of confidence and pride. Convincing people that glory and patriotism were worth sending their boys to fight and possibly die in violent skirmishes halfway around the world wasn’t what he’d signed up for when he started the boys’ band.

But the music professor had done it anyway, and he had done it with a smile. As Marian said, it was his _duty_. After all, the boys had little choice in the matter – Uncle Sam had demanded their services, whether they would go or not. And it was better to send them off with songs in their heart, instead of dread. But would parades be enough to fortify them against the dirt, disease and death of the trenches? Would the gratitude of the masses be enough to keep the darkness at bay when they returned and the war became a relic of history for everyone but them? Although Harold knew no one would ever blame him personally for the consequences of the war rallies and parades, he had played an important role in selling the war to the River City-ziens – and had therefore earned a measure of blame, should any of the boys he loved come home shell-shocked and broken.

And Harold would bear this burden with his usual devil-may-care flair, just as he had borne Winthrop’s righteous accusations of his nature and his livelihood, all those years ago. He would take his lumps like a man – no matter how much it killed him to do so.

“You’re not a monster, Harold,” said Marian’s warm, soothing voice. “There’s nothing dishonorable in urging people to face adversity and peril with good cheer. Once again, your boys’ band has brought something valuable to River City – a morale boost and a reminder that life still holds moments of beauty and joy, and that we can strive for the sublime even in these dark, uncertain times.”

It was as if the angel on his shoulder had spoken – if he could even bring himself to believe in such things. Turning away from the tracks, Harold saw the librarian regarding him with the serene, loving look that always made his heart constrict. Except for her slightly red-rimmed eyes, there was no sign she had ever been upset with him.

“Why did you follow me?” he asked, feeling both irritated and flattered.

“Why did you follow me that day in late November, when I ended up in the cornfield?” Marian returned, walking up to him until they were mere inches apart. “I’d rather have you than my pride. I’m sorry for losing my temper, Harold. Please come home? We’ll spend the whole day together – just you and me.”

As much as Harold wanted to take the librarian up on that offer, he had no right to impose – he had caused her enough inconvenience for one day. “What about the quilt for the Events Committee?” he asked. He didn’t mean to sound sullen, exactly, but it ended up coming out that way.

Marian’s smile didn’t waver for a moment. “The quilt can wait until tomorrow.”

Harold would have protested, but the sudden lump in his throat made further speech impossible. Once again, the woman he loved had found it in her generous heart to forbear and show him consideration he didn’t deserve. But he owed her _something_. Clearing his throat, he said, by way of explanation, “In case you were wondering – I didn’t come here to leave, Marian. I came here to think.”

Unfortunately, his words had the opposite effect of what he intended; looking vaguely alarmed, the librarian raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you often come here alone, to think?” she asked conversationally.

Harold shook his head. “Not since the day I accidentally gave you that love-bite in the emporium, all those years ago,” he said honestly.

Marian didn’t look completely convinced, but she smiled bravely, all the same. “Oh… I see.”

An awkward silence fell between them. As Harold struggled to figure out what to say to mend the fresh wound he had inflicted – although they were alone at present, they were still in a public place, and he wanted to choose his words with care lest his mask of joviality slip and he damage the morale he’d so carefully cultivated among the River City-ziens – Marian turned and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“I should leave you alone for now, darling,” she said kindly – though he also heard a note of disappointment in her voice. “If you need me, I’ll be at home.”

Suddenly, it no longer mattered to the music professor what anyone should happen to overhear. As his wife began to walk away, he caught her around the waist. “Marian – please don’t go,” he entreated. “I’d take you over my pride, too” – as soon as he said this, words flowed freely and easily for him again – “I know I’ve been too overprotective of you and the girls, and I apologize. Even now, I’m used to stacking the deck to ensure everything goes in my favor, but some things are too big to affect, even for me. If I could, I’d have ended the war in a minute!”

“You’re not all-powerful, darling,” Marian reminded him with a gentle smile.

As much as he hated to admit there were times when he was just as much at the mercy of larger forces as anybody else, Harold nodded. Even with all his confidence and swagger, deep down, he had always known there were limits to what even he could do. While this minute grain of humility had prevented him from developing the callousness of the truly heinous criminal, it had also led him to shy away from anything he couldn’t completely control – like love, as well as long-term involvement with a people and a place.

Harold swallowed. “Marian… I spent most of my life on the lam, unattached to anyone or anything. But now, I have so much to lose. And the fact that, in the end, I can’t really do much to prevent losing those I love… it’s a bitter pill to take.”

Marian’s smile faded. “Have there been times the price of attachment has seemed too high, Harold?”

Harold shook his head. “Never,” he said vehemently.

She smiled again, but this time it was skeptical. “Not even that day in October, when you ended up at the tracks after our fight in the emporium?”

“Never,” Harold repeated, taking her hands in his. “Although I thought about leaving River City that day, it wasn’t because I wanted to escape – it was because I thought I had already lost you. And the only way I could make amends – by divulging my past – seemed likely to drive you even further away. But although the odds of winning you back seemed too bleak even for me, I still had to try – to lose you would be like losing half my heart. I know it sounds overly romantic, even for a charming Casanova like me, but it’s true – there’s no other way I can think of to describe that awful hollow sensation in my chest when I contemplated a future without you in it. So instead of hopping on a train, I went home. I hoped that maybe if I gave you a little time, you might find it in your heart to forgive me, which is why I waited a whole week before trying to contact you. And just so you know, my dear little librarian,” he said, pressing heated kisses against her fingertips, “that was one of the longest weeks of my life!”

“It was for me, too,” Marian said softly. “I felt the same way, like my heart was being torn in half. I knew what I had to do, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it” – she removed a hand from his and placed it over her heart – “and still gives me an unpleasant twinge to think about.”

Harold put his hands over hers. “I know – I’m so sorry I put you through all that.”

Marian shook her head. “Everything worked out the way it was supposed to. It was difficult, but I knew if we were meant to be together, we had to be together the right way – even if meant losing you for a little while. If we weren’t meant to be together” – she paused, and her voice softened – “God would have given us the strength to bear the pain of separation.”

Harold leaned in to kiss her hand, which was still resting on her breast. “If we are separated, it won’t be because of me,” he said staunchly. “When you forgave me for what I did, I promised myself I would never break your heart again.”

Marian’s eyes met his. “Harold – you’ve never broken my heart.” When he goggled at her, she explained, “You’ve hurt me, but I’ve hurt you as well. Unfortunately, it’s inevitable that we sometimes hurt the ones we love.” When he still looked skeptical, she asked, “Would you say I’ve ever broken your heart?”

“Of course not!” Harold said immediately. “But what I did went above and beyond mere hurt – ”

Marian smiled and put her free hand over his mouth. “Everyone makes mistakes, darling – it’s how one deals with them that shows one’s true colors. You apologized and made amends. More than that, you let me into your heart. And as I got to see the man you truly were” – now she laid her palm over _his_ heart – “I fell even more in love with you than I already was.”

For Harold, the only suitable response was to pull his wife as close as he could and kiss her until they were both breathless. When they finally parted, it was Marian who spoke the words he knew they were both thinking, in that deliciously low, throaty voice of invitation she only adopted when they were alone:

“Let’s go home.”

Somehow, Harold managed to escort his wife to the charming Victorian without touching her any more than was polite or decorous. Even after they had reached the privacy of their house, he refrained from taking her in his arms until the bedroom door had safely shut out the world. For when Harold was finally alone with Marian, he undressed her without preamble, his mouth pressing heated kisses against her bare skin in a downward trail as her garments fell away from her body. Although he was being much more abrupt than usual, her gasps only contained desire, which made Harold want her even more. Lately when they had made love, he was nothing but gentle, and held Marian as if she was fragile and might break if he wasn’t careful. But as he ran his hands over her with possessive urgency, she pressed against him and kissed him just as eagerly – a silent but persuasive reminder of the passion they were both capable of expressing, and had been missing from their embrace.

But Harold couldn’t get too carried away – as ever in these gloomy times, responsibility remained first and foremost in his mind, and his lips found their way to the librarian’s ear. “Marian – where are you in your courses?” he whispered. He hated to be so blunt about such delicate matters, but for all that he had followed her around, they had not made love very often that summer, and as a result he had lost track of his wife’s natural rhythms. But starting today, he would never let that happen again – even if unforeseen circumstances forced them to go for a long stretch of time without making love.

Thankfully, Marian responded to his inquiry with an understanding smile. “I just finished yesterday,” she whispered back, a tinge of pink suffusing her cheeks.

Harold relaxed – there were no special precautions they had to take. But even so, he meant to go slowly and savor their reunion, as it had been weeks since they had been together. However, Marian seemed to have other ideas; taking advantage of the fact that they had the house to themselves, she didn’t attempt to conceal the intensity of her desire, and moaned unabashedly at her husband’s touch. Suddenly realizing just how desperate he was for her, Harold’s caresses lost their restraint – while retaining all of their skill as he did his best to coax as much pleasure as he could from those beautiful lips. He wanted – needed! – to hear Marian sigh and moan and shout – her unbridled expressions of passion somehow soothed the ache in his heart, even as he surrendered to his own inclinations to cry out in wordless abandon while his wife writhed frantically beneath him, calling his name and matching his thrusts with the same anguished intensity as he made love to her. Harold paused at various intervals, attempting to delay his release for as long as he could, but he could no sooner stop a speeding train. It wasn’t long before he lost control of himself and, all too soon, it was over and husband and wife lay entwined in a tangle of sheets, gasping for breath as their hearts continued to race.

But as Marian’s breathing slowed to normal and her ardent expression relaxed into a look of contented serenity, Harold’s emotions remained a raging maelstrom that unsettled his insides. Clinging to his wife, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and tried to get a hold of himself. Why wasn’t it enough? It should have been enough – it had always been enough before. But somehow, it wasn’t enough now. He needed something more…

Marian wrapped her arms around him, and he felt her warm lips brush against his forehead. “What’s the matter, darling?” she asked softly.

The truth burst out of him. “Marian… I know what war can do to a man – I saw it with my father, how the Civil War made him into the wreck he was. I can’t bear the thought of Winthrop coming home like that… after what the loss of his father did to him, I can only imagine what effect the ravages of war will have on his spirit!”

Marian smoothed back his disheveled curls with her gentle fingers. “Winthrop is made of stronger stuff than you think, darling,” she reassured him – though he heard a quaver of anxiety in her voice. “He believes in the rightness of what he has to do, and his conviction and stubbornness will see him through.”

“That might be so,” Harold said grimly. “But if it wasn’t for those damn parades – parades that _I_ led – he might never have gone at all!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” the librarian replied, her tone just as grim. “While Winthrop looks up to you, he’s strong-willed and makes his own decisions. He had to have known your reaction to his plans would have been to stop him from going – why else would he have been so careful not to contact us until he was too far away for retrieval?”

Harold lifted his head and looked at his wife in awe – although the notion had occurred to him, he had dismissed it as the flimsy rationalization of a guilty conscience. But to hear Marian say such things was something else entirely. For the first time in ages, the horrible knot of guilt constricting his heart began to loosen.

Marian smiled at her bemused husband. “Papa always prided himself on maintaining a healthy skepticism about unproven people or ideas, and it’s a tendency he passed down to both his children. My brother and I are slow to give our loyalty to anyone or anything – unless it has been earned. And when he accepted your new cornet with such unbridled joy, I couldn’t help warming to you – even knowing you were still the same conman you’d always been.”

The knot tightened again; Harold fidgeted in Marian’s arms and lowered his head to the curve of her neck so he wouldn’t have to look into her steady gaze. Even so many years later, he could never help feeling a twinge of remorse when he was reminded of how he had initially viewed Winthrop – the boy he loved most and the closest to having a son he’d ever get – as little more than a convenient device to achieve the success of his schemes. “Well, he was wrong to trust me,” Harold averred, even as he sought comfort from the woman he would have loved and left behind. “And so were you, when it comes down to it!”

Marian planted another tender kiss on his forehead. “Oh, Harold!” she chided with a gentle laugh. “How can you say that, after having proven yourself a loyal husband and staunch protector of our family? Winthrop saw something in you – something wonderful. Something that in my bitterness and disillusion with men and humanity as a whole, I had overlooked.” She paused. “Even if he does experience difficulty when faced with the horrors of the trenches, Winthrop is not the man your father was. Not all men are destroyed by war – I had a great uncle who fought in the Civil War, and he was one of the kindest and sweetest homebodies I’ve ever known.”

Although her words were wise and consoling, Harold was determined to continue talking until he had exorcised the demon that had been plaguing him since the first convoy of young men had departed River City. “You’re absolutely right, my dear little librarian,” he acknowledged, “but even so, I can’t bear the thought of knowing what’s waiting out there in the trenches, and sending all my boys off with smiles and songs extolling patriotic glory” – he started to break down – “I feel like this is my worst con job yet!”

Once, when they’d reconciled after an argument, Harold had grinned and told his wife, “I hate it when we fight… but I sure do love making up with you.” This time, there were no grins, no playful remarks. He simply wept, and allowed Marian to hold him, and to kiss away his tears as he had kissed away hers so many times before, and to weep with him. The great Professor Hill would mask his pain and greet the world with a smile tomorrow, but for now, in the privacy of his bed and the presence of his wife, he could share the burden of being unflappable.

And it was a relief.

XXX

In the spring of 1919, the River City-ziens who had survived the trenches finally came home – Winthrop among them. Harold wept again, but this time he cried tears of joy and relief. And this time, he felt no shame in discarding his mask of joviality, as he wasn’t the only one who had done so – there was barely a dry eye among the crowd that turned out to greet their returning boys. And the soldiers themselves were overcome with emotion as well – it was especially poignant to see the tears streaming down Tommy Djilas’ cheeks as he greeted his wife with a long, joyous kiss and beheld their little son Harry for the first time. Even the gruff Mayor Shinn and his stately Missus grew misty-eyed enough to abandon the usual strict rules of decorum and pull their son-in-law into a warm hug.

Around the train station, similar scenes were playing out: mothers threw their arms around their sons and clasped them to their breast, soldiers scooped up little brothers and sisters – and sometimes their own newborn children – for closer inspection, young couples stood locked in passionate embraces. While it was too early to tell just how much the darkness had affected the young men, it was a blessing they had come home at all. So for the time being, Harold could put aside his misgivings to revel in this triumph along with everybody else.

But then Winthrop disembarked from the train. While he had written to them beforehand and warned them that an unlucky encounter with a piece of shrapnel had taken its toll on his left leg, to see him walking toward them with a permanent limp was still an unpleasant shock – so much so that Harold, Marian, Mrs. Paroo and even Amaryllis froze, instead of hastening forward to greet the boy they loved.

But Winthrop was no longer a boy. Despite his disability, he moved with the confidence and composure of a man – a man who was firm in his convictions. Even when seeing his family’s underwhelming reaction to his return, he did not halt or falter in his pace. Instead, he smiled bravely as he made his way slowly but steadily toward them.

It was Penny and Elly who broke the tension. Too young to understand the enormity of the moment, the girls ran to their Uncle Winthrop and buzzed around his feet as merrily as they ever did before he left. Marian and Mrs. Paroo soon followed suit, rushing over and wrapping their arms around their brother and son and covering his face with kisses.

“Hello, Mama… Hello, Marian,” Winthrop said, his voice happy and relieved as he hugged them in return.

Harold strove to keep his expression pleasantly neutral as his brother-in-law disengaged from the women and turned to greet the music professor, but the tear or two that escaped and trickled down his cheek belied his equanimity.

Winthrop caught him in a fierce hug. “Forgive me for leaving without telling you, Harold,” he entreated in an earnest voice – although there was a noticeable cautiousness to the way he spoke, as if he had chosen his words with care and rehearsed them several times.

“Don’t be silly,” Harold said immediately, hugging him tightly in return. “There’s nothing to forgive. A man has to do what he thinks is right – even if others might object.”

Winthrop laughed and shook his head. “How did I know that would be your reply?” Although his tone was light, the amused exasperation in his voice seemed a trifle forced, and he was still choosing his words with care.

Yet none of this came as a surprise to Harold. As he had gotten older, Winthrop had largely grown out of his lisp – but when he was upset or under emotional strain, he couldn’t help retreating back into it. And when he was in danger of falling into this old speech pattern, he often masked how rattled he was by making a conscious effort to avoid words with the letter “s” in them. In fact, Winthrop had gotten so good at smoothly circumventing this troublesome letter that most people couldn’t tell when he was doing this.

But he couldn’t keep it up forever. There was still one more person Winthrop had to greet – the woman whose name, by capricious accident of fate or perhaps through the sly wisdom of Providence, could not be gotten around. How Winthrop greeted Amaryllis would tell Harold a lot about what kind of man the war had made him into.

Indeed, when Winthrop finally let go of the mentor who loved him like a son and faced the woman who’d carried a torch for him since she was a little girl, his expression grew uncertain – a look that was soon masked by a glib impassiveness. Even as his heart saddened to see this familiar tactic, which he had often used himself before letting his dear librarian get to know him, the music professor said nothing. Neither did Marian nor Mrs. Paroo. Even Penny and Elly seemed to sense the importance of this moment, and settled down to observe the pair from the comfort their mother’s arms.

Although Amaryllis paled as Winthrop stood stoically before her, she gave her beau her usual sunny smile. “Hello, Winthrop,” she said kindly, as if nothing was amiss. “You look awfully handsome in your uniform.”

At that, the stiffness in Winthrop’s stature dissipated; for the first time since he had arrived home, his body relaxed into a posture of natural ease and a bright smile lit up his features, making him look almost boyish again as he regarded Amaryllis with a fiercely affectionate look and replied:

“Hello, Amaryllith.”

Now it was Amaryllis’ turn to surrender to emotion; as her smile trembled and she burst into tears, Winthrop pulled her into his arms.

“Oh, Winthrop,” Amaryllis cried, “I missed you so much! I’m not angry at you for leaving – I was never angry for a moment. I know why you had to leave – but I was so frightened you would never come home. And then you only wrote to me three times after your first letter telling me goodbye – sometimes I wondered if you no longer loved me – ”

As she clung to him and wept, Winthrop stroked her dark hair – which she still wore in pigtails, but wound around her head in a more adult fashion. “I’m sorry, Amaryllith – I’m so sorry,” he said fervently, his lisp as strong as ever. Heedless of such impediments, he continued on: “There were so many times I wanted to write, but I had nothing to say that would bring a smile to your face.” He pulled away from their embrace a little and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Amaryllith… the memory of your sweet smile got me through so many bad nights; I never stopped loving you for a moment, and I never will – ”

Then his lips found hers, and Harold and the others turned away to give the two of them a modicum of privacy. While Mrs. Paroo beckoned for Penny and Elly to come to her and contrived clever distractions to keep the girls from gawking at their uncle and soon-to-be aunt, the music professor’s arms found their way around his wife’s waist, and the two of them shared a tearfully ardent embrace of their own.

So the shadows _were_ there, but they weren’t impenetrable as he’d feared. Even as Harold ached to witness the burden the young lovers carried, it warmed his heart to see Winthrop bathe his beloved’s face with kisses, and to regard her with the same tender protectiveness as the music professor regarded Marian. Gone was the shy boy who rarely dared to do more than sneak smiles and glances at the girl he fancied – Winthrop held Amaryllis with the confidence and eagerness of a man who’d finally been reunited with the woman he loved and longed for. And Amaryllis would be just as good for Winthrop as he was for her; she had proven herself the strongest and bravest of them all and, when the man she loved faltered, she would be there to help drive the ghosts away, and be his strength as he was hers.

XXX

Indeed, when Winthrop and Amaryllis married a month after his return, their eyes were bright and filled with hope. But as they gazed joyfully at each other while repeating their vows – Winthrop lisped up a storm as he said his parts – Harold also observed in their expressions a mature gravity that had replaced the childish idealism of yesteryear; even though they were still quite young, they had long abandoned the rose-colored view that their youth protected them from misfortune and calamity.

Letting out a small sigh, Harold glanced at his daughters – and found it immensely cheering to see them fidgeting and giggling as they always did when they were required to sit still for long periods of time. Catching their eyes – eyes that still sparkled with the blithe, carefree innocence of childhood – he grinned and put a finger to his lips. Penny and Elly immediately pressed their hands to their mouths and quieted, although their sly expressions continued to betoken mischief. At that, Harold and Marian shared an amused look – they both knew full well the girls would be up to their usual tricks after a few minutes had passed and the adults were no longer looking at them.

But Penny and Elly weren’t the only ones who were given to lighthearted merriment. Although Harold and Marian had been together for almost seven years, today somehow felt like a new beginning for them, as well; throughout the festivities, the music professor and the librarian flirted and teased each other with a cheery playfulness they hadn’t demonstrated in quite some time and, later that night when the girls were safely tucked into bed and husband and wife were finally alone together, they made love with joyful abandon and renewed hope for a bright future.


End file.
